


Left Alone

by Maggi8noodlesalfredo2lasagne



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo, The Language of Thorns - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-02-23 18:19:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18707413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggi8noodlesalfredo2lasagne/pseuds/Maggi8noodlesalfredo2lasagne
Summary: The story of the non-main characters from Language Of Thorns





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter we look at Karina, the supposedly evil stepmother.

Karina was _otkazat’sya _. That much was clear when she developed a healthy appetite, and Magda disappointedly took note that nothing in their tiny hut had changed. No unexpected winds blew inside the house. No changes to the steel cutlery or wooden furniture. Magda herself would have been aware of any changes to her blood pressure.__  
Karina was a normal daughter of the witch of Duva.  
While disappointed that she could not teach her daughter the ways of Grisha, Magda doted on her only child, indulging her with sweets, and admittedly her own.  
Mother and daughter worked side by side baking gingerbread houses and blueberry cakes. It was the hobby they both loved. Sweets and baking.  
Karina grew up learning to be an excellent baker like her mother, but she never saw the _merzost_ until she was past her first bleeding, when she had demanded her mother to stop treating her like a child.  
Karina may not be able to help her mother with her customers or her special brews, but she would help her manage the hut and food.  
Magda sighed. Karina was certainly not useless, but this was not the way she wanted her daughter to grow up – living in a witch’s hut without properly mastering her trade. What if when Magda died, Karina could not fend for herself?

____

Right about the time that the soldiers returned home, Magda kicked a protesting Karina out of her house.  
“Go out there, into the villages, and make yourself useful,” she ordered her weeping daughter. “You can do more good out there than in here with a witch like me.”  
At the time, Karina did not hear her mother’s love behind the blunt instructions. All she had witnessed was that her mother did not want her anymore, that she had found her useless. 

Karina found the village, and using what supplies Magda had given her, had made a living for herself as a baker.  
The new baker truthfully told her customers that her mother had kicked her out of the house so would learn to be independent. The old women gossiped that the baker girl was really an orphan, or some such nonsense.  
Despite that the baker was an outsider, the villagers soon warmed up to Karina. Not only were her goodies scrumptious and cheap, Karina was extremely helpful. She became a midwife for Tante Mariya, she taught the girls of the village how to bake, and she gave out hearty soup to old Rusya when he had fallen ill.  
It was not exactly an instinctive trait of Karina to be this generous, but a reaction from her mother’s words. Karina had determined to make herself as useful as possible, so she would never be pushed away again, so no one would turn their backs on her once more. 

Despite the cold sendoff, Magda and Karina kept up correspondence using the eyeless crow as a courier.  
Karina eagerly told her proud mother of what she had accomplished on her own. That the villagers liked her and she had earned her own keep. Magda was relieved that her daughter had proven she could survive without her help.  
In turn, mother told daughter of her visitors’ requests. The most interesting by far was the letter that detailed two houseguests Magda made room for in her hut.  
It was another mother, but she had with her a boy. Both were Grisha, but were unlike any Magda had ever known. No earth or wind, water or fire came to them, but shadow.  
Magda didn’t mind. She honestly believed her _merzost_ was scarier. The Darkling mother certainly seemed wary of it. The boy was more curious, and especially took to Magda once it became clear they both had a sweet tooth. Karina laughed out loud when she read how the boy was eating up Magda’s sugar supply and how her own mother was now hiding her jars of honey. 

Two years had gone by, and then Karina found love with a hunter. Ironically the hunter would rather have sweets for supper than actual meat, but Karina did not judge him.  
He was forgetful and silly, but he was lovable and caring. More than that, he made Karina feel wanted and needed. He gave her purpose. 

Regarding Karina’s wedding, Magda did not dare attend, but she did send her daughter lovely gifts of rainbow macaroons.  
It was a nice gesture, even as the hunter wished he could have met his mother-in-law face to face and receive her blessing. He had wanted to do so before he proposed to Karina, but the latter insisted it was better they left her mother alone. 

The happy couple did not make it a year. The hunter had ran into a bear during a storm.  
Karina mourned for a long while, wearing nothing but black and hiding her tears behind the veil.  
Magda sent her daughter bittersweet chocolates and asked her to come back home.  
Karina ate the chocolates. They did help. But no, she would move on from this. She did not want to go to her mother and cry in her lap. It would have been sad, weak and pathetic.  
The new widow did not then realize that sometimes needing help is not a sign of weakness or uselessness. Shedding tears is not something to be ashamed of. 

When the famine came, Magda sent her daughter food and sugar to supply her throughout the lean times. Karina was not so proud as to refuse.  
Throughout the autumn and winter, people had wondered where she had gotten the sugar.  
Then the woods began to eat girls, and few paid Karina attention.  
Maxim became a suspect to Karina as soon as he protested the proposal that the priest say a blessing.  
Karina knew Maxim because she had helped his sick wife throughout the season. She was present for the funeral. What bothered Karina most was that when she saw Maxim’s mourning face, beyond the grief he displayed for everyone to see, she saw a dead hunger in his eyes and it frightened the witch’s daughter.  
Karina began to seduce Maxim, bringing gifts to appeal to him.  
At the dance, Karina urged Nadya to follow Havel now that girls were clearly marked by the forest sprites. She followed her mother’s method but it was a failure. Nadya was still in the village when Havel left.  
Maxim proposed to Karina soon after the dance. 

Now Karina did not hate her stepdaughter, but she didn’t like her either. Nadya was not useless but she hardly did her fair share of the work. Before the wedding, before Nadya’s mother’s funeral, Karina witnessed how Maxim did the cooking and Havel did the hunting. Nadya had only just stood back and watched. Or worse, she would just leave her house to go spy on Victor, lost in a girlish crush as was normal for one of her age.  
Using the authority as a stepmother, Karina made sure Nadya pulled her weight around the house, ordering her to help her prepare meals. The girl sulked and looked as if it was a giant waste of her time. She would learn, Karina determined. 

Karina’s suspicions about Maxim had been strengthened by the fact that out of all the hungry villagers, he looked least the lean.  
As a stepmother, Karina glared at Nadya’s bowl, making sure her charge did not give her father any portions of food like she had done with her mother. Maxim should be the one doing that instead of Nadya if such a situation was ever possible during a famine. 

Deciding it was time to teach the girl some bravery, Karina ordered Nadya to go out to the woods and check the traps. While part of Karina hoped Nadya would return with wild game, a bigger part was hoping Nadya would not return, that she had instead followed her nose to Magda’s hut where she would be unknowingly cared for her by her step-grandmother.  
On the second night, when Nadya did not return, Karina’s suspicions were confirmed.  
The shock on Maxim’s face was not from the fact that his daughter was taken, that she was gone and possibly dead, but rather he was shocked that it was _his_ daughter who would be missing, as if such a scenario was impossible despite the fear that had weighed down on Duva. 

Magda sent word of Nadya’s condition. Already the witch was fattening her granddaughter up. And since Nadya liked Magda more than she liked Karina, she helped to stir the pot without complaint or scowls.  
Magda offered to help her daughter bring Maxim to justice, but Karina declined. This was her battle.  
Also, there was the small detail that whatever Magda’s help would be, it would likely end in a gruesome death, one that Karina truthfully believed no one should have.  
Karina did everything she could to keep Maxim away from the girls. She gave him bigger portions of food, but not so much that he would demand to know her source. With Nadya gone, Maxim was demanded by his wife to stay at home and help with the chores. With less time outside, Maxim would find it more difficult to prey upon the girls.  
For dinner, Karina always gave Maxim his daily kvas, spiked with dropwort. She used the extra hours this gave her to search the house. (It wasn’t as if she could do this while he was awake and inside.) 

When the doll arrived, Karina knew Nadya had made a wish to Magda. She knew it was time for her to leave. Best not to be here when the villagers discovered Maxim was the culprit, they might assume she was an accomplice.  
Karina found a new village and restarted the whole introduction as the stranger baker. She kept touch with Magda, but she did not return to her. There was no need to. Magda’s loneliness was now soothed by her granddaughter’s presence, and Karina was not yet ready to face her stepdaughter just yet. In time, but not just yet.  
All that was left for Karina to do was to move on and make herself useful. 


	2. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I admit Sofiya was cruel to abuse the animals' trust in her, but I never really liked Jurek for abandoning his sister.

Once upon a time, there lived a farmer of modest means. Despite his humble origins, the farmer was undoubtedly handsome and well-liked. He married young to a woman of equal beauty and rank. The wife soon gave birth to a healthy baby boy named Jurek.  
For a time, this small family was happy. Baby Jurek would watch his father tend to his cows from the comfort of his mother’s lap.  
But all happy times come to an end, too soon for Jurek. His mother soon fell victim to a plague on the town.  
Desperate to find a wife who would care for his son while he watched over his herd, the farmer soon remarried.  
This was not a marriage of love, but of cordial convenience. The second wife came from a humbler background and wanted to escape her father’s rages. The marriage would be an escape to her and perhaps let her experience the warmth and love she had never received from her own family.  
The new wife did show affection to her stepson, but when she gave birth to little Sofiya, things began to change.  
The new wife correctly suspected that her husband favored Jurek over Sofiya. Not merely because Jurek was a child made of love, but because he was a boy.  
No matter how pleasant and demure Sofiya was, under the tutelage of her cunning mother, her father’s eyes could hardly be drawn away from Jurek’s tussle with the dogs.  
It grew worse for Sofiya as she grew older. While both siblings were fair in appearance, everybody always talked about Jurek’s prospects. When Sofiya made a fine cloak for her father, Jurek had won a race with his friends. When Sofiya baked her father’s favorite pie, Jurek would be given the first slice by the former.  
All these little things, and yet it was the rescue that had made Sofiya finally snap.  
Some hag had fallen into the river, leaving behind a tub of dirty laundry. Jurek had heard her garbled cries and splashing struggles. And like any other good boy, had dove in after her to pull her back to shore safely.  
Why him? Sofiya thought enviously, seeing all the people lavish praises on her beaming brother. Why not any of his dumb friends?  
A tentative tap on her shoulder had her turning to face her friends Alma and Zarya. Standing between was Nona. The best that could be said of their relationship was that they were acquaintances, but really Sofiya knew nothing about this girl with the eager, hopeful eyes. Nor did she want to.  
“Hey Sof,” Zarya grinned. “Guess who wants to be introduced to your big brother?”  
Alma snapped, “Can you blame her? But she is not going to hog all of Jurek’s attention, will she, Sof?”  
Her own friends preferred her brother to herself. Hearing them use that fond nickname in an attempt to please and flatter her, when all it did was dig the backstabbing blade in deeper.  
Rolling her eyes, Sofiya apologized to Nona. “Jurek and I had a fight recently, and I don’t think it will be in your favour if I introduced you right now.”  
A lie no one would think much of again.  
Easily dismissing Nona, Sofiya turned to her friends and raised a brow. “But since you’re already acquainted with Jurek the hero, why don’t you help me and Mama prepare dinner. That way you can regale my brother for details on his adventure at dinner.”  
Alma and Zarya quickly bid the heartbroken Nona farewell. As they led the way to Sofiya’s house, Sofiya smiled placatedly, eyes serene and fists clenched.  
Neither of her friends had suspected just how badly Sofiya wanted to scratch their eyes out.  
Oh, they fretted over the torn skin over palms in the kitchen. Sofiya lied again and said she had fallen and scraped her hands.  
This left her the easy work while her friends laboured over the huge dinner that was to honour her brother for today’s deed. Her mother had just left to buy a cake just after Sofiya promised that she would prepare dinner with the help of her friends.  
At night, Sofiya ate in silence. The food was admittedly delicious. The conversation flattering and hearty.  
Everybody preferred Jurek. Everybody. Alright, her mother loved them equally, but he was a stepson. Not even related by blood. With Jurek around, Sofiya would always be in his shadow.  
And as Sofiya stabbed her fork into her beef, she wholeheartedly wished that the old lady would have drowned.

Jurek’s first hunting expedition was purely a father-son bonding moment only. Unable to help herself, Sofiya followed closely behind, stealthily avoiding any branches or dry leaves.  
After some time, no game had been found, and having had enough of watching the males banter good-naturedly, Sofiya finally settled on a large rock to give in to the angry, bitter tears she kept locked up inside.  
A rustle in the bushes was heard.  
Sofiya stilled, for a moment fearing she had been caught following her father and brother.  
The sight of a she-bear had never been more welcome then.  
The bear was not hungry, nor was she hunting for her two accompanying cubs.  
Upon seeing the pretty Sofiya cry, and seeing her relieved expression to their arrival, the bear’s curiosity was piqued.  
“Why do you cry, child?”  
The relief was over. Humiliation took its place. Sofiya flushed and quickly blurted out the quickest lie she could think of. That her father and brother brought her into the woods to show her where she could gather berries, but they had walked so fast and never noticed when she flagged behind.  
Taking pity on the liar, the mother bear guided Sofiya to some bountiful blueberry bushes. Leaving her cubs to greedily gulp down the fruit, the she-bear procured a promise from Sofiya that the latter would watch over the cubs, while the former would look for the gatherers.  
Sofiya was uneasy about the she-bear’s intention and decided to follow her. Fortunately, the cubs were taught the silence of woodcraft and would not give away their presence.  
The trio came upon an interesting scene. The she-bear had come across not gatherers, but hunters. Already she had knocked the older man down in quick self-defense. Jurek was shaking so badly at the sight of the massive beast that he fumbled with his rifle and dropped it to the leaf-strewn floor. The weapon clattered loudly and clumsily before it settled.  
The sight of the fall of such an admired hero should have made Sofiya’s day. Alas, instead of feeling the much-earned smug glee, all she felt was scorn and hatred bubbling up to form a scowl on her face.  
The three observers were within throwing distance of the she-bear, who had not yet seen them in her distracted state of mind.  
Sofiya stealthily slid out the paring knife she had swiped from the kitchen for this expedition. How twisted that instead of using it for self-defense, it would save another at the expense of a friend.  
With a sharp flick of her wrist, Sofiya aimed her throw for the bear’s eye. She missed, but the blade did pierce bear flesh. The mother bear choked on her blood, trying to pry the knife out of her throat in vain.  
Both bear and Jurek turned their surprised eyes to Sofiya. The mother bear’s eyes showed no sign of betrayal nor concern for her cubs. Too much time had been spent on pain. The surprise soon gave way to nothingness.  
The cubs cried out. Why would the sad girl kill their mother after she had helped her?  
Sofiya ignored them, quickly spotting a sizable branch on the ground. Heaving it up, the cubs tried to run away, but it was too late. Jurek watched as his delicate sister clubbed the baby animals to the ground, lifeless.  
Turning around, Sofiya spotted the fear in his shaking hands, the disgust in his grimace, and the horror in the pallor of his skin.  
Jurek feared her.  
This actually made Sofiya smile.  
Then she sneered at Jurek. “Don’t hunt if you’re a coward, brother.”

When the father came to, he congratulated Jurek on the kills. Jurek wanted to protest, but Sofiya had already left him, and no one would believe the truth of what he saw. No one could see the feminine girl and think her capable of killing.  
When they went back to their house, laden with bear meat and pelts, Jurek’s stepmother congratulated him. Sofiya sat on her chair, reading her book as if she had been there all day. She raised an eyebrow at Jurek, a hint of a smug smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, before she went back to her book.  
That night, Jurek barricaded his bedroom door, unable to forget the hatred hidden behind Sofiya’s gaze.

Days past and Jurek treated Sofiya carefully. He always offered her the best cut of meat for dinner, a cup of water on a hot day, and a new book by her favorite author. Of course their father saw his attempts at sucking up as admirable consideration for his little sister. And Jurek learned the source of Sofiya’s hatred.  
When the time came for enlistment, Jurek was drafted as a tracker. It was not until Sofiya joined the army that Jurek’s reputation began to look up once more. While he was a truly lousy hunter, Sofiya had a natural gift for killing and she used this chance to hone her cunning craft.  
Realizing that even in the army, with all her kills, Sofiya got no more notice than an efficient clock, she began to plot once more. She snuck out of her tent to visit her brother. He came when called, fearful of his sister but even more scared of what she would do if he stayed in his cot.  
In the dead of night, the siblings struck a deal. Sofiya would hunt the beasts for Jurek to claim as his own. Jurek would get the credit and notice from the officers and everyone else. in return, he must care for Sofiya once their service was over.  
Jurek did not want to accept. To him, a life of fame and fortune was not worth the terror of Sofiya’s constant proximity. Yet hunting was all he had been raised to do. His foolish father had chosen to favor the future of hunters for his son instead of the farming trade. This deal offered more than material wants, it offered survival.  
The bargain was made.  
Sofiya’s plan worked. True to their biased nature, the commanding officer saw Jurek as a shiny cuckoo clock, gathering attention with the pelts accumulated by the disregarded sister.  
Sofiya set them up nicely in funds once their enlistment was over. Each town they visited was emptied of all fauna. Jurek lived a life of luxury. He ate meat for every meal, gold hung on his frame, and strangers went out of their way to see to his comfort. He was miserable. All the acting had taken its toll. It sickened him how he had to lie through his teeth to the innocent villagers.  
When Sofiya decided to make a hood of prized pelts, Jurek just curled his lip in disgust. They both knew his permission was not needed. In whatever house they lived in, Jurek would always be the puppet on display.  
Life went on. During the day, Jurek entertained and hiked through the woods, while Sofiya would stalk for prey and read whatever new book fell into her hands. At night, they bolted their doors. Sofiya may have been the huntress, but fear can drive men to do unspeakable things, even against their own kin.  
The siblings had no want of suitors. Beauty is an ostentatious and very effective lure. But combined with a rich dowry, and there would be no fear of a solitary future. Jurek did not mind the attention. Sofiya could care less. Why would she want a husband to lord over her? A man who would discover their secret, and possibly expose them? No, the risk was too great and Sofiya made sure to leave maidens broken hearted whenever she saw her brother start to take a fancy towards any of them. This does not mean that Sofiya didn’t have a bit of fun to mess with her admirers. All she had to do was be the quiet, sad little maiden, and the boys would immediately pin the blame on her hero of a brother. Men saw what they wanted. It was as simple as that. And what they wanted was a pretty victim to rescue.  
Sofiya had to bite her tongue when one of her suitors punched Jurek. Her shoulders shook with what the men imagined to be fear, grabbing the doorpost to hold her weak knees up. In reality, she was shaking with laughter. Oh, this game of infatuation never got old.  
When they were in Balakirev, Jurek met a maiden who he could see himself having a future with, while Sofiya was out hunting. He tried to set up a cordial meeting between the females. Sofiya was far from impressed. To her, this stranger was a dependent waste. Happily helping her mother instead of taking charge. When Jurek invited his new love interest to their large dwelling, she offered to help Sofiya cook. The latter had never before been more disgusted with such feminity. Her objection was firm and final. They would not open their little travelling band to this chattering wench. Jurek never had the chance to say goodbye.  
It was in Polvost that Sofiya’s way of life took a harsh turn. She had hunted as she had always done, by gaining the trust of the wild animals and turning it against them. But an ugly little fox had garnered her interest. Koja was the wiliest creature Sofiya had ever met. Someone who had made a name for himself despite the odds stacked against him. It was like looking into a mirror.  
For the first time, Sofiya almost had a pang of regret as she plotted his downfall, using his own idea against him. Alas, it had to be done. Koja would have found out Jurek was innocent after all, and then would have plotted against her.  
Sofiya had forgotten to take into account that the fox had allies. She had forgotten to check her surroundings. And her negligence cost her dearly.  
Now Sofiya sits abandoned with the widows. Her fool of a brother found another dependent girl who would have him. With Sofiya blinded, Jurek began to come out of his shell. And when his new wife asked him in private to send Sofiya away, because she was scared of her sister-in-law, the ingrate had obliged without delay.  
As Sofiya sat hunched with her only trophy – proof that she was the real breadwinner of the family, the child with the greater potential her own father had misogynistically overlooked – she smiled grimly to herself. She may have been discarded, but she would not be left unavenged.  
Sofiya held no grudge towards Lola, not anymore. in the forest, the rule was that the strong survived, and Lola’s beak was strong. Sofiya respected the laws of the wild, and would be a graceful loser in her defeat.  
Her vendetta had always been reserved for her brother. And this time, he had truly earned her ire. Once Sofiya had heard her sister-in-law complain, she knew that she would get no share of the goods that she had earned with her kills. They would remain with her humbled brother and his greedy wife.  
Unbeknownst to the happy couple, poisoned wine had passed through Sofiya’s mind before she had even met Koja. It was how she had killed some of her prey so that they would die in their sleep. She had mixed the bottles of poisoned wine with the normal decanters. Jurek was never allowed to use the bottles from their cellar. He always ordered from the tavern.  
With her brother’s fondness for liquor, and his wife’s taste for luxury, Sofiya knew it was only a matter of time before they came across the wrong bottle. She didn’t wait long. A week in her isolation, news came of the dead woodcutter and his new wife. Sofiya was being requested to go to the bank to discuss the contents of Jurek’s will, one that she had dictated.  
Her back to the old vultures, Sofiya’s smile was killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone commented on my Ravkan Institute story, and I told them I was busy. I'm still busy now, but inspiration got me working on this story. I'll write the Ravkan Institute chapter 2 once I feel inspired to write a more fleshed out chapter. In the meantime, I'm satisfying my hunger for Miraculous Ladybug.

**Author's Note:**

> I have always considered the possibility that Karina knew Magda, was maybe even related to her.


End file.
